


Ointment

by NoelBlue



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelBlue/pseuds/NoelBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A KinkMeme fill for something that asked for just old school sex - Carver and Nathaniel are at Vigil's Keep, and Nathaniel tends to a minor wound of Carver's. Tension becomes more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ointment

Carver got down on his haunches, sweat dripping from his bare chest, and slid down the cold stone with a sigh. "Andraste's tits," he swore.

"Tired?" A husky, almost scratchy voice said above him. Carver looked up to see Nathaniel Howe standing over him, a slight amused smile quirking his lips.

Without thinking he pushed himself up the wall too quickly and thus scrapped the skin on his back something awful. "Oh, shit!'

Howe laughed until he saw the expression of pain on the younger Warden's face. "Turn around," he said. Feeling like a complete ass, Carver did so.

There was a small hiss, followed by a more sympathetic, throaty chuckle and a hand landing on his shoulder. Carver tensed up, the touch surprising him. Maker, why did Warden Howe disconcert him so? He'd had many superiors in the army, some from noble families, some not, and he'd never found his pulse quickening or his chest tightening when they talked to him like they did around this man.

"Come on back to my chambers - I have some ointment and bandages that will help with that."  
Carver nodded, and, his head down, and followed the black clad rogue down the hallway to the officer chambers. Hopefully none of the other recruits saw him; he felt enough like an idiot being wounded by a blasted wall. Turning corners forced him to look up and he found himself briefly captivated by Nathaniel's hair - it was a dark, shiny black that hung to his shoulders and looked soft and touchable. The way it contrasted with the man's pale skin and deep, dark eyes always fascinated him, and when Howe spoke during training he found that voice - wry and deep and contemptuous and biting and yet often warm - hypnotic.

"I'm quite impressed, young Hawke, that you always manage to keep yourself away from even the fastest swords, and then cut yourself against the castle stones," Howe said. As always it was hard to tell if the man was mocking him, or simply being playful. Carver's body tensed in angry reaction, then the answering pain from his scrape made him wince and smile at himself ruefully.

"I'm skilled like that," he said, "just like how I became a warden - I seem to do real damage to myself accidentally."

Howe laughed and it rumbled down the hall. Carver shivered. He wasn't stupid - he knew what he was feeling, and it embarrassed him. Being attracted to and diddling with men wasn't usually his thing.

But by the Maker he was so damn horny since he became a warden, he couldn't believe the thoughts he'd been having. How long had it been since he'd had a woman? There'd been all those women back in Kirkwall, but he'd been so drunk most of the time he couldn't remember their names, or even what they'd looked like. He remembered Peaches in the barn, back in simpler days in Lothering. And of course there was Merrill, that sweet face of hers, those huge eyes and the adorable things she would say - and then his smile dropped when thought of her adoration of his big sister. His lips curled into a grimace.

Everyone bloody wanted his older, too-perfect sibling. If Howe met her he'd probably want her, too.

His heart filled with homesickness and that familiar feeling of resentment. Her and her damn ability to do anything she set her mind to drove him nuts, but he missed her, his mother, and even the dog with a deep ache that haunted him every night. His whole life he'd been surrounded by women, strong, opinionated, pain in the rump women, and now here he was with a 3 men for every female. And those women were either taken, not his type or he wasn't theirs. It was a lonely existence. But what would his sister say if he knew he missed her? Probably smile that all-knowing smile of hers and claim she wasn't surprised. "Bloody bitch," he said in a mutter.

Howe stopped to open his chamber doors and looked over his shoulder with a small smile. "It can't be that bad, soldier. Come in."

"No, it's not. Sorry, just thinking of something else." Carver looked around the room, unable to suppress his curiosity about the famous Nathaniel Howe. There was a fine rug on the floor, hangings on the walls, several exceptional bows hung on racks, and various items that had what he recognized as the Howe crest on them. "It must be strange sometimes, living in your old home like you do."

Howe's dark eyes crinkled up at the corners. Carver thought the man, despite his long, loose hair and unusual facial hair, looked patrician. Perhaps it was that slightly hooked nose in that broad, roughly handsome face. As he spoke the rogue took off his gloves, his vambraces, his armor and his boots, leaving him in a black tunic and hose. With a flush Carver noticed he had been staring and looked to the side. He did his best to concentrate at the lamp next to the wide, comfortable-looking bed.

"At first. I got used to it, however, and now recognize the Vigil has a far deeper history than that of the Howes. This fortress has been here since millennia, and will probably stand for many more. Sit." He patted the small wooden table near the center of the room, and Carver hopped up and settled himself obligingly. Howe turned to open a cupboard and came out with two small containers.

Opening the larger of the two, he walked around the younger man, and a moment later Carver felt the cool sensation of a salve hitting his skin. "Ow," he said as it began to sting, and Howe laughed.

"I'm glad you find this so much fun," Carver said with more bemusement than anger.

"Of course I do. You're usually so cocksure and aggressive, swinging your great sword and scaring the less skilled - and here you are, laid low by a simple scrape. How the mighty have fallen."

Carver just snorted, warmed by the compliment to his skill from a master warden.

Howe's long, talented fingers continued to rub the ointment into Carver's skin, the ministrations sending tingling sensations throughout his body. "I hear your sister is making quite the name for herself in Kirkwall," the rogue said in a conversational tone. "You must be proud."

"She doesn't need me to be proud," Carver said. "She's got my mother and everyone she's ever met to do that. Anyways, I'm sure she wouldn't even notice if I was." The hands on his skin were moving in such a way that it was almost like a massage, soothing and careful and confident. He leaned backwards into the touch.

Howe made a thoughtful noise in his throat, his fingers now on Carver's shoulders, kneading. "You should be grateful, Hawke, to have a family that you can take pride in. It was quite a blow to face the sins of my father, and it may take many generations before the Howe name can overcome the animosity borne of his actions. I am grateful for the Warden Commander giving me the opportunity to remake myself, but still, it stings." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of, does it feel better now? You took a whole layer of skin off back there, although the area was small." His voice blew against Carver's neck, and Carver almost thought he felt the small patch of hair beneath Howe's lower lip brush upon the tender ridge of his ear.

Carver's cock reacted, and reacted with vigor. His face burned - he hadn't been so quickly turned on since he was a lad, fresh to the ins and outs of women. He quickly pushed himself off the table while carefully keeping his back turned, desperately hoping Howe would dismiss him so he could go find a private corner and take care of the sudden, shameful need straining at his trousers. "Thank you, Warden Howe. It feels better already."

"But we haven't even put a bandage on it yet." He felt the hands on his hips, and fingers moving up his bare abdomen. Then lips hit his throat and something hard was pressed against his ass as a groan escaped him. "We wouldn't want it to get infected, would we?" the deep voice vibrated on his skin, through his bones, and he felt one of his hands reach up and grab that long silky hair he'd always admired.

"Aren't I already infected?" Carver countered, and arched as a talented hand found the clasp of his breeches and undid them easily.

 

"As are we all." fingers created a circle around his head and began to pull downwards in a slow, teasing manner that had him arching against the erection behind him. "But have you noticed how the taint also makes us very hard to tire, and always hungry? It's a gift and a curse." Teeth nipped at Carver's skin as his balls were cupped.

"Are you saying we're insatiable?" Carver's words were coming out as gasps as he was squeezed and - how was it even possible? - he was suddenly harder.

Instead of answering Howe turned him around and imprisoned his mouth, his hands pushing Carver's trouser's down so they fell to his feet. Not knowing what he was doing but knowing by Andraste's ass he wanted the other man as naked as he was Carver scrabbled for the top of Howe's hose until a laugh fell through his lips and hands interrupted him, smoothly pushing the offending piece of clothing down, his tunic following quickly after.

Skin against skin and straining cock against cock Carver reached out and grabbed the other man with clumsy fingers. Howe encouraged him by wrapping his own hand on top and showing him the right pressure and rhythm, pulling away when he was satisfied. "You are indeed skilled," Howe said. He then brought his fingers up to his lips wet them, his bedroom eyes heavy lidded.

Carver was flushed with pleasure at the compliment when he felt Howe reach around his cheeks and then the sensation of two fingers swiftly entering his ass.

"Maker," He said in a yell, arching and his hands shooting up and clawing at Howe's shoulders.

"Come, relax." The fingers moved gently in and out and Carver did as he was told, whimpering as he felt them brush somewhere deep inside that felt very, very good. He buried his forehead in Howe's shoulder and his hips moved automatically against the motion.

The sensation felt so bloody good that his knees gave way and he sunk to the floor onto the carpet, Howe and his fingers easily following him down.

"I'm going to fuck you, young Hawke," Nathaniel said into Carver's hair with his raspy growl, "I'm going to fuck you very hard."

Those fingers hit that spot again as Howe's other hand dug into the hard muscles of Carver's ass, and the recruit could only make a noise that he hoped sounded like accedence. This must have done the trick because he was suddenly empty - too empty, too quickly - And Howe stood to grab the second bottle and stood so his groin was even with Carver's eyes.

He gave Carver one of his small, dark smiles. "Hold out your hand," he said in a way that made it an order, and Carver did so. He watched as the oil fell into a small pool in his fingers. Howe brought Carver's hand forward, and wrapped it around his own cock.

Carver instinctively knew what was wanted and smeared it along the length of Howe's prick. He felt satisfied when he heard the moan of pleasure and the movement of Howe's body, and was disappointed when his hand was pushed away, wanting to do more, wanting to show more of his aforementioned skill. He looked up, wondering what he had done wrong, and he saw Howe was looking at him thoughtfully. Then that rare smile widened. "I like you down there, I think. Get on your back."

With the speed of a soldier with many years experience of taking orders, Carver dropped his torso and placed his head behind him. He moved his feet and legs so they were before him with a final kick to remove his stubborn trousers that sat around his ankle.

"Lift your hips."

Carver rolled back and pressed his upper back into the floor; he then hissed with the pain as his wound met the harsh fibers of the rug. Howe reached forward and took his thighs to lift them up so Carver's ass was in the air, which made him feel bare, exposed, dominated, and by Andraste harder than before - fuck he wanted to be fucked.

Those fingers were inside him again, slick and forceful and he took a deep breath to accept them and pushed up.

"Relax..." Howe said to him for the second time.

He did so and closed his eyes and then cried out as the pain hit of something much larger than fingers entered him and stretched him wide as it pushed downwards. He opened his eyes and saw through pain and a rising sense of pleasure - balls, the pleasure - that Howe was over him, pressing his thighs down and straddling Carver's body, the muscles of his thighs and his torso straining as he moved up and came down again.

The pain started to be surrounded and then engulfed by the bliss, and he wanted to badly to speed Howe up and he strained upward but he couldn't, those strong hands on his thigh holding him down controlled everything and then pounding.

"Maker," he breathed into something that might have become a yowl - it felt so bloody good.

"Name's Nathaniel, warden," Howe - Nathaniel corrected him and then moved faster with his fingers digging into Carver's flesh, bruising with grey warden strength.

Carver heard himself beg - he couldn't be sure it was all a blur - reached and took his cock in his hand, his fingers still slick with oil, and pumped at himself as the exploding sensations continued inside and Howe's movement became more erratic, less controlled, slamming him into the floor. The pain from his back somehow enhanced and added to the pain of being fucked, and it was that fleeting thought that had him coming, his warm seed flooding over his upper torso and neck and even face as he heard Nathaniel shout and jerk into him and he felt a warm rush on his insides.

They breathed for a moment, heavy and panting, and Carver wondered in a haze how strong Howe's legs must be to keep him up and move like that for so long.

Not that he was complaining... wait, maybe he was; as the ecstasy faded and Nathaniel slid out of Carver and let his torso and hips hit the ground he suddenly felt his scrape again and sat up quickly.

 

"Tits! That burns," he said with a wince, reaching back to find it. Fast as a snake Nathaniel grabbed his hand, crouching next to him.

"Don't touch," he said, "you'll just make it worse."

Carver started to protest but couldn't get the words out as a tongue was licking at his chin, his own cum then passed into his mouth.

When Nathaniel pulled back Carver was breathing heavily again, and he actually felt a faint stirring his cock. Was this what it meant to be a Grey Warden? "Insatiable," he said to himself in something like awe.

"More or less," Nathaniel said, leaning back on his arm with an amused smirk. "You okay with that, Hawke?"

"Name's Carver, Nathaniel." He was far too embarrassed to answer that question, since the response was very obviously a 'yes'. It really was like being 14 again, except with much more experienced partners.

"It is, isn't it?" Nathaniel stood up, openly unconcerned with his nakedness. "But don't forget, Carver, I'm your superior; I can call you whatever I want, and you will only call me Nathaniel in these chambers." He stepped to the side and without warning poked Carver in his wound, causing him to yelp. "now get up, Hawke. Let's actually put a bandage on you this time."

Carver didn't move, narrowing his eyes and sticking his lower lip out stubbornly. "And what about next time I get wounded?"

Nathaniel shrugged, and reached for the ointment. "You come to me, of course."

Carver grunted, his breath too short to attempt an actual reply, and climbed back onto the table.


End file.
